The bishop and the caterpillar (as recited by Mr. Brandram) and other pieces

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THE BISHOP AND THE
CATERPILLAR -

AND OTHER PIECES.

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THE J^ISHOP AND THE
CATERPILLAR

(As Recited by Mr. Brandram) PJO

AND OTHER PIECES^ *117-^

' 6S

BY

MARY E. MANNERS

ILontiott :
JAMES CLARKE & CO., 13 & 14, FLEET STREET.

1892,

2)ebtcatc&

(By Permission)

TO

LEWIS CARROL,

IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE

OF MANY HAPPY HOURS

SPENT IN

" WONDERLAND."

Carrol! Accept the heartfelt thanks

Of children of all ages.
Of those who long have left their ranks.

Yet still must love the pages
Written by him whose magic wand
Called up the scenes of " Wonderland."

PREFACE.

The whole of these poems, with the exception of
the last four, will be familiar to the readers of
The Boy's Own Paper* having appeared at intervals
in the pages of that periodical, from which they
are now reprinted by special permission. The
exceptions have been collected from various sources,
and several have made their de'but at the social
gatherings of an Essay Meeting composed of
members of the "Society of Friends," whose kindly
appreciation first encouraged me to hope that the
pieces might be found suitable for reading and
recitation by a wider circle of friends (with or
without the capital " F "). " The Bishop and the

* The Boy's Own Paper, which was started by the Religious Tract
Society, 56, Paterroster Row, to provide high-class literature for
boys, has long b(en quite a household word in every part of the
English-speaking world.

viii PREFACE.

Caterpillar" has, I understand, been largely used
for this purpose.

For the rest, my enjoyment of the mysterious
title of "Anon " has been almost equal to Mark
Tapley's wonder at finding himself transformed
into a " Co." ; but I am told that this dignity is
no longer a desirable one ; so it is with even
greater pleasure that I subscribe myself to all who
are interested in the matter as

Their sincere well-wisher,

MARY E. MANNERS.

CONTENTS.

The Bishop and the Caterpillar

A Holiday Story for Boys — and their Uncles !

Count Rudolph's Beard

Brimmacum's Umbrella

Brimmacum's Wedding

Pickled Cockles

The Quaker and the Fairy

A Romance of a Friend's Bonnet

The King's Pudding

Dorothy

PAGE
I

.. II

... 23

••• 33

••• 45

... 59

... 69

... 78

... 8s

... 89

THE BISHOP AND THE
CATERPILLAR.

The Bishop sat in the Schoolmaster's chair :
The Rector, and Curates two, were there,

The Doctor, the Squire,

The heads of the Choir,
And the Gentry around of high degree,
A highly distinguished company;
For the Bishop was greatly beloved in his See !

And there, below,

A goodly show,
Their faces with soap and with pleasure aglow,
Sat the dear little school-children, row upon row ;
For the Bishop had said ('twas the death-blow to

schism).
He would hear those dear children their Catechism.

And then to complete

The pleasure so sweet

1

2 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR.

Of these nice little children so pretty and neat,
He'd invited them to a magnificent treat !
And filled were the minds of these dear little ones
With visions of cakes, and of "gay Sally Lunns,"
Of oceans of tea, and unlimited buns
(The large ones called " Bath," not the plain penny
ones).

I think I have read,

Or at least heard it said :
" Boys are always in mischief, unless they're in bed."

I put it to you,

I don't say it's true,
But if you should ask for my own private view,
I should answer at once, without further ado :
" I don't think a boy can be trusted to keep
From mischief in bed — unless he's asleep 1 "

But the Schoolmaster's eye hath a magic spell,
And the boys were behaving remarkably well —
For boys ; and the girls — but 'tis needless to say
Their conduct was perfect in every way ;
For I'm sure 'tis well known in all ranks of society.
That girls always behave with the utmost propriety.

' Now the Bishop arises, and waves his hand ;
And the children prepared for his questions stand ;

THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 3

>" With admiring eyes his form they scan ;
He was a remarkably fine-looking man !
His apron was silk of the blackest dye,
His lawn the finest money could buy ;
His sleeves and his ruffles than snow were whiter,
He'd his best shovel-hat, and his second-best

mitre.
With benignant glance he gazed around —
You might have heard the slightest sound ! —
With dignified mien and solemn look
He slowly opened his ponderous book,
And proceeded at once the knowledge to try
Of those nice little children standing by.

Each child knew its name.
And who gave it the same.
And all the rest of the questions profound
Which his Lordship was pleased to the school to

propound.
Nor less did secular knowledge abound.
For the Bishop, to his great pleasure, found
That they knew the date when our Queen was

crowned,
And the number of pence which make up a pound ;
And the oceans and seas which our island bound ;
That the earth is nearly, but not quite, round ;
Their orthography, also, was equally sound,

4 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR.

And the Bishop, at last, completely astound-

Ed, cried.

In a tone of pride,
" You bright little dears, no question can trouble you,
You've spelled knife with a k^ and wrong with a w.

" And now that my pleasing task's at an end,

I trust you will make of me a friend :

You've answered my questions, and 'tis but fair

That I in replying should take a share ;

So if there is aught you would like to know.

Pray ask me about it before I go.

I'm sure it would give me the greatest pleasure

To add to your knowledge, for learning's a treasure

Which you never can lose, and which no one can

steal ;
It grows by imparting, so do not feel
Afraid or shy.
But boldly try.
Which is the cleverer, you or I ! "
Thus amusement with learning judiciously blending,
His Lordship made of his speech an ending.
And a murmur went round of " How condescend-
ing ! "

But one bright little boy didn't care a jot
If his Lordship were condescending or not ;

THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 5

For, with scarce a pause
For the sounds of applause,
He raised his head,
And abruptly said :
" How many legs has a Caterpillar got ? "

Now the Bishop was a learned man,

Bishops always were since the race began,

But his knowledge in that particular line

Was less than yours, and no greater than mine ;

And, except that he knew the creature could crawl.

He knew nothing about its legs at all —

Whether the number were great or small,

One hundred, or five, or sixty, or six, —

So he felt in a " pretty consid'rable fix ! "

But, resolving his ignorance to hide.

In measured tones he thus replied :

" The Caterpillar, my dear little boy,

Is an emblem of life and a vision of joy !

It bursts from its shell on a bright green leaf,

It knows no care and it feels no grief"

Then he turned to the Rector and whispered low, -

" Mr. Rector, how many ? You surely must know."

But the Rector gravely shook his head,

He hadn't the faintest idea, he said.

So the Bishop turned to the class again,

And in tones paternal took up the strain :

6 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR.

" The Caterpillar, dear children, see.

On its bright green leaf from care lives free.

And it eats, and eats, and grows bigger and bigger,

(Perhaps the Curates can state the figure ?) "

But the Curates couldn't ; the Bishop went on.

Though he felt that another chance was gone.

" So it eats, and eats, and it grows and grows,
(Just ask the Schoolmaster if he knows.)"
But the Schoolmaster said that that kind of know-
ledge
Was not the sort he had learned at college.
" And when it has eaten enough, then soon
It spins for itself a soft cocoon,
And then it becomes a chrysalis —
I wonder which child can spell me this ?
'Tis rather a difficult word to spell —
(Just ask the Schoolmistress if she can tell.) "
But the Schoolmistress said, as she shook her grey-
curls,
"She considered such things were not proper for
girls."

The word was spelled, and spelled quite right,
Those nice little boys were so awfully bright !
And the Bishop began to get into a fright,
His face grew red — it was formerly white —

THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 7

And the hair on his head stood nearly upright ;

He was almost inclined to take refuge in flight,

But he thought that would be too shocking a sight ;

He was at his wits' end — nearly — not quite,

For the Pupil Teachers caught his eye.

He thought they might know — at least he would

try-
Then he anxiously waited for their reply :
But the Pupil Teachers enjoyed the fun,
And they wouldn't have told if they could have done.

So he said to the Beadle, " Go down in the street,
And stop all the people you chance to meet,

I don't care who,

Any one will do ;
The old woman selling lollipops.
The little boys playing with marbles and tops,
Or respectable people who deal at the shops ;
The crossing-sweeper, the organ-grinder,
Or the fortune-teller, if you can find her.

Ask any or all,

Short or tall,
Great or small, it matters not —
How many legs has a Caterpillar got ? "
The Beadle bowed, and was oflf like a shot
From a pop-gun fired, or that classical arrow
Which flew from the bow of the wicked cock-sparrow.

8 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR.

Now the Bishop again put on a smile,

And the children, who had been waiting meanwhile,

In their innocent hearts imagined that these

Remarks applied

(They were spoken aside)
To the weighty affairs of the Diocese.

" The Caterpillar is doomed to sleep
For months — a slumber long and deep.

Brown and dead

It looks, 'tis said,
It never even requires to be fed ;
And, except that sometimes it waggles its head,
Your utmost efforts would surely fail
To distinguish the creature's head from its tail.

" But one morning in spring,

When the birds loudly sing,
And the earth is gay with blossoming ;

When the violets blue

Are wet with dew,
And the sky wears the sweetest cerulean hue !

When on all is seen

The brightest sheen —
When the daisies are white, and the grass is green ;

Then the chrysalis breaks,

The insect awa,kes, —

THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 9

To the realms of air its way it takes ;

It did not die,

It soars on high,
A bright and a beauteous butterfly ! "

Here he paused and wiped a tear from his eye ;
The Beadle was quietly standing by,
And perceiving the lecture had reached its close,
Whispered, softly and sadly, " Nobody knows ! "

The Bishop saw his last hope was vain,

But to make the best of it he was fain ;

So he added, " Dear children, we ever should be

Prepared to learn from all we see,

And beautiful thoughts of hope and joy

Fill the heart, I know, of each girl and boy !

Oh, ponder on these, and you will not care

To know the exact allotted share

Of legs the creature possessed at its birth.

When it crawled, a mean worm, on this lowly earth.

Yet, if you know it, you now may tell,

Your answers so far have pleased me well."

Then he looked around with benignant eye,
Nor long did he wait for the reply.
For the bright little boy, with a countenance gay.
Said, " Six, for I counted 'em yesterday ! "

lo THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPHLAR.

Moral.

** To all who have children under their care,"

Of two things, nay, three things, I pray you beware —

Don't give them too many ** unlimited buns,"

Six each (Bath) is sufficient, or twelve penny ones ;

Don't let them go in for examination,

Unless you have given them due preparation.

Or the questions, asked with the kindest intention,

May be rather a strain on their powers of invention.

Don't pretend you know everything under the sun,

Though your school-days are ended, and theirs but

begun.
But honestly say, when the case is so,
" This thing, my dear children, I do not know ; "
For they really must learn, either slower or speedier
That you're not a walking Encyclopaedia !

A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS
-AND THEIR UNCLES!

OR, KING HENRY VIII. AND THE ABBOT OF
READING.

A LITTLE boy stood gazing at a pastrycook's fair

tray,
Where tarts, and puffs, and lollipops were spread in

sweet array.
He stood and gazed, but that was all, he could not

purchase any,
Because, like Simple Simon, he hadn't got a penny ;
When by there came an uncle, of broad and portly

trim,
And he looked down at his nephew, and his nephew

looked at him.
" My dearest boy," the uncle said, in solemn tone and

gruff,
"You really don't think you could eat all that un-
wholesome stuff ? "

12 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS—

'* Oh, uncle dear," in tones of cheer, that nephew-
made reply,
*' I don't quite know what I could do, but I should

like to try."
" Alas, alas ! " the uncle said, and rather sighed than

smiled,
*' I would I were again a boy, an artless, happy

child !
What pure and simple pleasure from that stall I then

might buy,
But now I couldn't touch a tart, and I shouldn't

like to try."
The nephew stood expectant ; the uncle did not

mind ;
So the boy said, " Sir, in * Fuller ' a prescription you

will find."
The uncle turned him homewards with a slow and

heavy tread.
Then o'er a ponderous volume before him open

spread.
He sat and pored for many hours ; he did not go to

bed ;
And this, or something like it, was the story which he

read.

" Merry it is in the good greenwood.
When the mavis and merle are singing,

AND THEIR UNCLES! 13

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in
cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing."
Thus cries Sir Walter, in heart-stirring song,
And I think you will say,
In a general way,
That the Bard of the North is " no that far wrong."

But 'tis not quite so merry,

Indeed it is very
Provoking and trying, to saint or to sinner.

When you find, to your cost.

That your way you have lost.
And that dinner-time's come, and brought with it no

dinner ;
While your friends are so far that nought 'twill avail ye
To sound the wild mort or the jolly reveille I

For James Fitz-James
The poet claims
That he didn't get cross and call his knights
"names ; "

And though it is clear
He had some cause for fear.
And the loss of his steed made him feel rather queer,
He said nothing worse than — " Beshrew yon wild
deer."

14 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS—

But King Hal the Bluff

Was of different stuff,
And his language and manners were both somewhat

rough,
So he fretted and fumed far more than enough,
Vowed his grand M. F. H. was " a regular muff,"
And declared that not one of his dastardly train
Should ever go hunting with him again !

Nor cooled was the fire

Of the monarch's ire ;
In fact, it flamed up considerably higher.

When — his exit made

From the forest glade

And the sylvan shade
Formed by lofty trees with their branches spreading.

He found that his ride

Had been towards the wrong side,
And instead of to Windsor had brought him to
Reading !

He was burly and tall.

But he felt quite small,
As he thought how that moment in Windsor Hall,
The banquet was led by the seneschal.
And the vassals were feasting, one and all.
While their lord and master was far beyond call.

AND THEIR UNCLES! 15

The thought was as bitter as wormwood and

gall!
And he wrathfully muttered, " I call it a shame; "
Though he knew he had only himself to blame.
For that morn he had tenderly said to his Kate,
" If I'm not home to dinner, love, pray do not
wait."

Stay, though, I can't state

Precisely the date
Of my story, and so I'm unable to fix

Which queen then did reign ;

If not Kate, 'tis plain

'Twas Anne, or else Jane,
For their names were but three, though their number
was six.

Oh, free and fair is Reading town !

And rich and rare is her high renown
For biscuits, baked of a nice light brown 1

Mixed, milk, and Marie,

Rural, rusk, ratafia,

Toast, table, and tea.

Orange, Osborne, Oswego, and mild nursery,
With many more names, I'll not stop to rehearse,
For colonials and captains won't fit in my verse ;
Yet I think you'll agree that King Hal had been
calmer

i6 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS—

If in his knapsack
He'd the forethought to pack
Some few dozens of these — made by Huntley and
Palmer.

But Palmers then

Were a sort of men
Who wore cockle-shells and sandal shoon :

Carried staves and scrips,

Fed on haws and hips,
And shrank e'en from touching a macaroon.
Quoth the King, with a sigh, as one rudely awaked,
" Don't count on your biscuits before they are baked."

But stay, oh stay !

That abbey grey.

On Forbery Hill, not far away.
Was built, so at least all the guide-books say.
By King Henry the First (surnamed Beaiiclerc)
As a penance for injuries done to his Frere
Duke Robert, King William's lawful heir.

Henry did not choose

To wear peas in his shoes.
Or to walk barefoot among brambles and briars.

So this abbey he built

To atone for his guilt,
And left to the rule of the Benedict Friars.

AND THEIR UNCLES! 17

The stately pile was his glory and pride

While he lived, and they buried him there when he

died.
King Henry the Eighth, now relieved from anxiety.
Felt inclined to approve of his ancestor's piety.

Full sweet is the sound of the convent bell
As it ringeth clearly o'er wood and dell,
For it speaketh of peace, and of calm repose,
Of respite alike from friends and from foes.
From courtly pageants and empty shows,
From morning calls and similar woes,
From little girls wanting new Sunday clothes.
And boys with their boots always out at the toes !

On the monarch's ear

Most sweet and clear,
With sound of hope and presage of cheer.

Fell the solemn swell

Of that abbey bell.
For it rang not for matins, nor yet for compline,
But it said very plainly, " Oh, come, come and dine."
And the King, spurring fast towards Forbery Hill,
Replied with great fervour, " Ay, marry, I will."

Now Bluff King Hal was fond of a joke.
So he took off his crown, popped it into his "poke,"
And, disguising himself, merely sent in his card

2

1 8 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS—

As a "Yeoman, one of his Majesty's Guard,"

And was quickly seated among the rest.

The Lord Abbot's own particular guest.

" For, good friend," thus remarked his lordship's grace,

" Thou bearest thy passport in figure andTace ;

'Twas ever thus, since his reign began.

Our royal master loveth a man"

Good St. Benedict

Was uncommonly strict,
And drew up his rules with the utmost decorum
(The monks often thought, on purpose to bore 'em)
In Latin, the Regula Monachorum.

" Poor fellow, you know.

He lived long ago ! "
Quoth the Abbot, " for our times his notions are

'slow.'
To adhere to these rules means simply starvation.
And I think 'tis allowed to one of my station
To give to the Latin a free translation ! "

So the King soon found

On looking around,
He'd no need to complain of the monkish board ;

For the table was filled.

Thus the Abbot willed,
With all dainties the farm or the field could afford.

AND THEIR UNCLES! 19

There was chicken and ham,

And mint sauce and lamb,
Good things which no cook should e'er part in
sunder, but

What pleased the King most

Was the knightly roast,
A sirloin of beef, with a very prime undercut.
To make its acquaintance he was full fain,
'Twas cut, and come, and come again !

The monks all gazed

At their guest amazed,
As his knife and fork played a yeoman's part ;

And when finished at last

Was the brave repast.
The Abbot exclaimed : " Well fare thy heart !
Come, pledge me now this cup of sack
To thy master's health. May he never lack
Such men as thou to eat and to fight !
If our properest men must needs be our chief eaters.
The royal warrant was surely right
Which named thee one of his Majesty's Beef-eaters 1
An hundred pounds would I gladly pay
Could / make such a meal as thou this day !

But alas, with me,
Few things will agree.

20 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS—

To touch solid meat is rarely my habit ;

I scarce can digest

A slice from the breast
Of a tender chicken, or little young rabbit ! "
The King sympathised, tried to look tender-hearted.
Thanked his host for good cheer, and so departed.

Some weeks passed away,

Then, one sorrowful day

To that abbey grey
Came a messenger nobody dared disobey ;
A Royal Pursuivant, with warrant of power
To take the Lord Abbot at once to the Tower.

When there he was fed

Upon water and bread ;
He bewailed his hard fate ; many tears he shed,
He really did not feel sure that his head
Was safe on his shoulders, so great was his dread ;
And he spent all his time in trying to measure
The how and the why of the King's displeasure.
Yet he felt a sensation of joy and relief,
A welcome diversion from sorrow and grief,

When the warder at last,

To end his long fast,
Brought in a magnificent sirloin of beef.

AH^D THEIR UNCLES! 2i

Then forgetting all fears of bodily harm,
He ate like a farmer just fresh from the farm,
No longer he shrank from beef or from mutton :
" Two hungry meals make the third a glutton."

King Hal, from a private lobby hard by,
On his lordship's actions had played the spy ;
And now springing in, he exclaimed with glee,
" How now, my Lord Abbot, right gladly I see
That my patient is cured, so pay me my fee !
An hundred pounds of good red gold
Must upon this table be duly told,
Or the monks of Reading may wait in vain
To welcome their Lord Abbot home again."

The Abbot, full glad to be quit of his fright.
Obeyed with as good a grace as he might ;
Then reached down his crozier, and put on his mitre.
And went home with a heart and a purse somewhat
lighter.

The morning dawns, the uncle yawns, and shuts the

weighty book,
Then hies him to the fair abode of the tempting

pastrycook ;

22 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS.

He purchases the stock-in-trade of cakes, and tarts,

and pies.
Then finds his gentle nephew, and unto him he cries,
" My dearest boy, eat all you can, and give the rest

away
Unto your youthful playfellows, so happy and so gay.
But oh, I pray, be moderate, or plainly I foresee,
'Tis you will need the doctor, and who then will pay

the fee ? "
Three ringing cheers the uncle hears, then turns him

to depart.
Yet beareth homeward for his share a large red-
currant tart !

COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD.

A TALE OF CHIVALRY.

Count Rudolph von Ratz was a noble knight,

Quite ready at all times to dance or to fight ;

His name was a terror to every foe,

His battle-axe dealt a most deadly blow ;

He usually fought with a dozen or so

At once, but that was the custom, you know.

In the knightly days of long ago,

When to fight with one man was accounted "low,"

For a noble knight not at all comma ilfaut !

While in softer mood, all the world would agree,

None bowed with more courtly grace than he,

Or more featly served, on his bended knee,

The ladies at tennis or afternoon tea.

In short, he was equally loved and feared ;

And besides, — he possessed such a gem of a beard !

'Twas soft, and long.

And silky, and brown ;
The boast of the country, the talk of the town ;

24 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD.

The envy of many a beardless youth

Who dashed down razor, and groaned, forsooth,

In wan despair !

For the unguents rare
Of Rowland, Latreille, or Professor Brown

Could never produce

E'en by constant use
Such a beard as grew, quite spontaneously,
On the chin of Count Rudolph, surnamed the Free !

And many a maid heaved a secret sigh

As the knight on his coal-black steed rode by ;

And delicate fingers would often trace

On banner of silk, or cigarette case.

The arms that flashed on his silver shield,

The arms that none but he might wield :

Two hairy oobits proper upon a verdant field !

But little recked he,
' This knight so free.
Of youth who frowned, or of maid who sighed ;
And he laughed out loud as he gaily cried,
" Come weal, or come woe, the whole of my trade is
To fight all the knights, and to serve all the ladies ;
Yet nor knight nor maiden of high degree
Shall e'er boast of the capture of Rudolph the Free."

COUJ^T RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 25

Full oft the pitcher may go to the well,
Yet one day ringeth its funeral knell !

And " the god of love

Who sits above "
(So Shakespeare says, and he's always right)
Sent a shaft to the heart of the careless knight,

Who turned round quick

And, like Benedick,
Thus all tiresome jokes on the subject parried :

" When I vowed that I

Would a bachelor die,
I did not think I should live to be married ! "

On a " castled crag " by the " lonely Rhine "
Dwelt the lordly Baron von Blumenstein ;
And henchmen true
In doublets of blue,
Who mostly had nothing at all to do,
Stood waiting about, in doorway and hall,
In case the Baron should please to call,
"What ho, without there ! " (in tone of dread),
" Remove the banquet," or "somebody's head."
'Twas all the same to those vassals bold,
Who did, without murmur, just what they were told ;
Or I trow there'd have been what is termed " a

shine "
In the stately halls of Blumenstein !

26 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD.

The Baron was blessed with a gentle wife,
The joy of his heart and the pride of his life ;
She never spoke word that engendered strife ;

But cabbages red

She pickled instead,
She rose with the lark, and went early to bed.
The fame of her beer and sauer-kraut
Was noised through the country round about :
And the Baron's retainers would often vow
That no lord in the land had a better Haus-frau.

But beyond compare

Was the daughter fair
Who graced the home of the worthy pair.
She had lovely blue eyes and bright golden hair,
And plenty of frocks all of white to wear ;
She'd a heart quite light and free from care,
And cheeks like the blush on the Cath'rine pear ;
Such a winsome smile, such a charming air
Would have softened the heart of a grizzly bear ;
And before you had time to say " Beware ! "
Every youth who beheld her began to pine
For the love of sweet Hilda von Blumenstein.

I trow, there is little need for me

To tell any lover of chivalry
That this was the lady of high degree
Who was born to lead captive Rudolph the Free.

COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 27

Behold him now, as he kneels at her feet,

And pleadeth his cause in accents sweet :

" Let my love be proven, my lady fair.

Show me what for thy sake I shall do or dare.

And 'tis done at once, whatever it be,

For thou alone rulest o'er Rudolph the Free."

The lady blushed, and the lady sighed ;
She knew that his love would be sorely tried.
" Now lithe and listen, sir knight," quoth she,
" I claim no service of bended knee,
I put thy love to no simple test
Of doughty deed or of knightly quest ;
Far harder task must, I ween, be thine
Ere thou winnest Hilda von Blumenstein."

" Now prove me, and try me, my lady fair,
What man may do, or what man may dare,
That Rudolph dares, for thy sake, to try ;
An he fail or falter, then let him die."

Full sweetly smiled that lady bright.

To hear the vow of her gallant knight ;

Yet ashen pale grew her lovely cheek.

And vainly awhile she strove to speak ;

But at last came the words which to breathe she

feared,
The tremulous murmur, " Cut off thy beard ! "

28 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD.

With sudden anger the knight flushed red,

" Nay, lady mine," he proudly said,

** Hadst thou asked for my heart, or my hand, or my

head,
The thing were more quickly done than said ;
But I trow 'tis merely a mockery
To lay such command on Rudolph the Free."

''Alack and alas," the lady cried,
" My love for thee overcometh my pride ;
Yet never mayst thou be knight of mine.
For thus runs the legend of Blumenstein :

" • W^^m a Iai>2 of Blumenstein, fair anti firitjl^t,
Stall list to tlje lofae of a beartfeti fenigljt,
^ erg s]^all ie j&earlj at tieati of nigi^t,
2lnl3 fire anb flame rouse t]^e toattiers all
QTj^at keep tljeir toatcf) on \\z castle toall ! *

"Our castle is planned by my lordly sire.

Who feareth no foe save the crafty fire !

In every bower is a hand-grenade ;

In the courtyard, a volunteer fire-brigade ;

O'er each noble steed, as he standeth in stall,

Hangs the harness ready at need to fall ;

In every corridor, I ween.

Gleams the scarlet robe of the fire-queen.

COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 29

With her motto which speaketh to every one :
' Place thine arms through the straps and run.'
Yet, I fear me that all would naught avail,
Should Hilda list to thy flatt'ring tale."

" Now Fate divides us," Sir Rudolph said,
" Were ever lovers so sore bested ?
For a withered crone o'er my cradle sung
This ancient rhyme in an ancient tongue :

" ' OSit|[ ]^calt!j anK toitl^ strengt]^ tfjo beartJ gj^all jgrofo,
JJn fia antf flame 'ttoill banisfj, E troto.'

" Yet say but the word, and e'en Fate I brave,
For Rudolph the Free is thine humble slave."

" Nay now, nay now,

'Twere vain, I trow.
To Fate's decree to refuse to bow ;

An thou diedst," quoth she,

" All for love of me,
I don't think matters improved would be —
So I think, on the whole, I'll go home to tea.
And I charge thee for ever all hope to resign
Of wedding Hilda von Blumenstein."

By the castle gate,
When night fell late,
Linger'd Rudolph von Ratz, in a doleful state ;

30 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD.

On a Hebrew harp he sadly played,

And he sang to his lady a serenade ; —

His words and his tune ne'er had met before,

And 'twere much to be wished they should meet no

more ;
'Tis ill to sing when the heart is sore.

On the ear of the watchful sentinel

The sound discordant at midnight fell,

And he said to himself : " This is not well."

So, raising his crossbow high in the air.

He sternly demanded, "Who goes there?"

But the knight, I suppose,

Was lost in his woes,
And he only longed to disturb the repose
Of the maiden who caused to his heart such

throes ;
So he went on chanting his tuneless prayer,
" Awake and listen, O lady fair ! "

I pause to remark

That the night it was dark ;
And the sentinel, fearing to make a mistake,
Came up to the knight, gave his shoulder a shake,
As a gentle hint for the worst to prepare.
And repeated his query of " Who goes there ? "
But Rudolph still called on his lady fair.

COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 31

The watchman, his patience exhausted quite,
Determined to view the stranger aright.
Put his hand in his pocket, to feel for a light,
Struck a match on the box (it was Bryant and

May's),
And the beard of the knight was soon in a blaze !

A cry of " fire " through the still night rang.

Loud pealed the alarm-bell with crash and with

clang ;
And out came pouring the warders all,
Who kept their watch on the castle wall.
In fifty seconds, or rather less.
The engine came dashing along express ;
Quick the firemen saw where the mischief lay,
So they " married their stand-pipes " without delay,
And straight on Count Rudolph began to play.
While the trusty henchmen formed in a line
And passed the buckets right up from the Rhine ;
And the Baron himself, his wife, and his daughter,
Descended by rope-ladders into the water.

'Twas a terrible rout.
Though the fire was put out
Ere Rudolph quite knew what 'twas all about ;
But alas and alack !
A remnant black

32 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD.

Alone remained, for the world to see,

Of the noble beard of Count Rudolph the Free.

A passing sigh for that vanished grace,

Count Rudolph heaved for a moment's space ;

'Tvvas a thousand pities he wasn't insured,

But he thought, " 'Tis an evil that cannot be cured,

So I trow it will e'en have to be endured."

Then a sudden joy through his bosom thrilled !

" Beshrew me, the portents are both fulfilled !

And no one's the worse, except by a fright,

Sir Rudolph, no longer a bearded knight —

May claim the hand of his lady bright ! "

So he did. And the bells rang right merrily

For the wedding of Hilda with Rudolph the Free.

BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

Brimmacum's our second master — he's rather a mild
sort of " fella,"

But at Easter-time he went and bought the gor-
geous^j-^ umbrella !

There's too many syllables there for the grammar, I
must confess ;

But anything falling short of those words my feel-
ings wouldn't express !

'Twas silk, with an ebony stick, and gold mounts, or
something as bright,

And topped up with a jolly big ball of the finest
crocidolite —

That's right, I know, for I bribed little Jones with my
penknife (I wanted to sell it),

To go up to Brimmacum's desk one day, and ask
him how to spell it !

My ! wasn't he mad ? But he'd have been worse if
he'd heard Briggs major reporting,

" I say, boys, here's a precious lark ; old Brim-
macum's going a-courting."

3

34 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

Well, the summer holidays came and went — we

always come back a bit glum ;
But worse than the newest homesick boy was poor

old Brimmacum.
That the course of true love hadn't run smooth, was

plain to the seeing eye,
For his smart umbrella had disappeared, and none

knew the reason why.
And Briggs did say — but Briggs, I fear, for truth

doesn't greatly care —
That he'd changed it away for a diamond ring, which

the lady declined ta wear.

I didn't go home at Christmas time ; I went up

north to see
The splendidest man that ever lived — my grand-
father. Squire Leigh.
And didn't I have a glorious time, a regular first-
rate spree !

There was skating and riding.
Snowballing and sliding,
And everything fine in the way of providing ;
Turkeys and geese,
Ten mince-pies apiece,
And carol singers unmoved by police ;
Holly and yew.
And snapdragon, too.
With a big plum-pudding, all burning blue !

BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 35

Hunt the slipper and blind-man's buff,

Figs and oranges quantum suff.
(A piece of Latin no boy finds tough).

Roast apples and chestnuts, all aglow ;

Playing upon the old banjo —

I mean the boys, not the apples, you
know —

Doing our best to "jump Jim Crow,"

Kissing under the mistletoe
(But that's a proceeding I think rather slow).
Getting back forfeits lost at "old sodger,"
And then — Aunt Lucy struck up " Sir Roger."

Aunt Lucy's capital fun when nobody else is by ;
She likes a lark as well as a boy, if it's only done on

the sly ;
But when there are other fellows about — big grown-
up fellows I mean —
She puts on all her fine lady airs, and remembers

she's turned eighteen ;
And instead of waiting upon a chap, and putting his

specimens right.
She expects him to dangle after her, and be what

she calls " polite ! "
So when the dancing and stuff began, I wasn't going

to stay ;
I saw Aunt Lucy looking for me, and I quietly

slipped away.

36 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

I went to call on the keeper— his name is old Joe

Tupper ;
I thought I'd have a good talk with him, and get

back in time for supper.

I love to talk to old keeper Joe, because he can

always tell a
Good tale about hunting or fishing, or, what I like
almost as well, a

Ghost story that might

Make your hair stand upright.
And give you the " creeps " for the rest of the
night ;

A terrible tale of a woman in white,

With golden hair and eyes as bright

As the newest thing in electric light.
Which wildly gleam o'er flood and fell — a

Story of fear

For the time of year ;
But the only thing I did not think to hear
Was the story of — Brimmacum's best umbrella.

There it stood on the cottage floor.
The very first thing my eyes before,
When, stealing away from that wild uproar.
I gently opened the keeper's door !
It looked at me with an eye severe ;
I fell back, muttering, " This is queer."

BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 37

But, growing bolder, I ventured near.
Saying, " How in the world did you get
here ? "

Then keeper Joe, rising, cheerily said,
"I'm main glad to see thee, Maister Fred.
Cum, sit thee down, and I'll tell thee t' story
O' that there umbrella what's stannin' afore

thee."
I obeyed his behest right cheerfully,
And I'll tell you the tale as 'twas told to me.

" Miss Lucy, thou knows, she cum back fra school

chock full o' all sorts o' knowledge ;
But all th' lot on't wurn't no use — she wanted to go

to t' college.
The lasses i' my young days, Maister Fred, they

hadn't so far to seek ;
They'd nobbut one tongue, and they used it — they

wanted no Latin nor Greek ;
They looked arter housekeepin' matters, they baked

t' puddin's and t' pies.
And if ivver their tongues did fail 'em, why, they

made it up with their eyes.
But t' squire got a schoolmaister fella to cum i' th'

holiday time,
And he wur a-teachin' Miss Lucy thro' all th'

summer's prime.

38 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

Aye, but Miss Lucy's a scholard, and she went at it

right smart ;
And it tuk her just no time at all to get all his books

by heart.
'Twould ha' done ye good to hear 'em talk o' the

glorious * Tragic Three ' ;
But th' thing as puzzled me most o' all were th'

wondrous * Attic Bee.'
Thinks I, — * I beant no scholard, and he's got th'

mathematics ;
But I don't believe as his bees 'ud thrive, if he kep'

'em up i' the attics ! '
Yet howsomedivver that might^be, there wurn't no

lack o' honey.
And their books was alius a-preachin' up the wuth-

lessness of money.
For money can't gi'e happiness ' — ^thinks I, ' That's

pretty plain ;
Umbrellas don't bring t'sunshine, but they helps

to keep out t' rain.'
Then he tuk her out i' the park o' nights, and he larnt

her t' names o' t' stars,
And he tauld her which wur Venus, and which wur

Cupid and Mars ;
And they went a-streakin' about i' th' lanes in a

manner most surprisin'.
And they brought home a heap of rubbishly weeds,

and said they wur botanizin'.

BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 39

They calls him Miss Lucy's " coach," ' says I

* missus, but dosta know ?
If they'd on'y gi'en him to me to name, I'd ha' called

him Miss Lucy's beau.'
And so fur a week or two, thou knows, he had it all

his own way ;
But then t' auld house begun to fill wi' folks as had

cum to stay.
Miss Lucy kep' up wi' her lessons, as in course she

wur bound to do.
But he fun hissen at loose ends like, arter they'd

gotten thro' ;
For he wurn't at home a-top on a horse, and wur

mortal feared on a gun ;
And Miss Lucy went off wi' her cousins, and he wur

clean out o' t' fun.
So he turned quite sulky-like, and cum off a-fishin',

ye see.
And he thought he'd show off his larnin', and hev it

out wi' me ;
But, bless ye, I knows a sight o' things, so I wurn't

taken aback,
For Trigonometry beant no use when ye're gettin' a

barn to thack ;
And I onct heard Miss Lucy say to him — she knowed

she wur talkin' treason,
'You men invented logic fur to hide your want o'

reason.'

40 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

Well, he sets hissen down alongside o' me, and maks

believe to fish,
(Ye might put all the trout as he ivver caught in a

very small-sized dish).
Then all on a sudden he bursts out, vvi'out the least
apology :

Says he, ' Joe,

Dosta know
Aught about Chro-nology ? '

Says I, ' Nay,

I can't rightly say.
As I ivver did much i' that sort o' way.'
' Aye, that's a terrible pity,' says he ;
* It's a very gran' science, Chro-nol-o-gy.
It taks in all creeturs, great and small,
The fishes that swim and the beasties that crawl.
And shows ye some things as ye can't see at all ;

" ' It classifies ants, and blue-bottle flies.

And teaches ye how to make use on your eyes.*

Thinks I to mysen, ' Ah, thou may boast,

I can see as far thro' a mileston' as most,

Tho' I ne'er i' my life set foot in a college.' He

Goes on, wi' a laugh,

' 'Twould take thee half
O' the rest o' thy life to larn Chronology ;
But I'll lend thee a hand, if to larn 't thou'rt

wishin'.'

BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 41

' Thou don't say so,' says I ;

'Well, I think I'll none try,

So I'll e'en get along wi' my fishin'.'

" Just then I landed a fine fat trout,

And t' schoolmaister thought as I'd cut him out ;

So, as soon as t' fish vvur fairly caught,

^ Joe,' he begins,' ' dosta know aught

O' t' science o' Phrenolo-gy ? '

Says I to he,

' What might that be ?
I doubt 'twould be summat too strong for me.*
^ Oh, that,' says he, ' rings i' th' student's ears
Th' wonderful music of the spheres ;
And numbers the countless orbs that stray
Thro' the trackless path o' the Milky Way ;
It shows how the planets in order run ;
It weighs the earth, and it measures the sun.
With a science exact, that never fails.'
Thinks I, ' But I'd like to look at them scales ! '

" ' It's a gran' thing, ye see.

Is Phrenolo-gy.
'Twould tak half thy lifetime to larn 't,' says he.
Says I, 'I'm afeard it's no good wishin',

Fur as yet I ne'er

Had that time to spare,
So I'll e'en get along wi' my fishin'.'

42 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

" Then he drops his rod, of its weight com-

plainin',
Puts up his umbrella, and thinks it's rainin',

Wonders why he cum,

Thinks he'll go home,
Then all on a sudden, * Joe,' he cries,

' Open thy eyes.
That flower o' the rock's a splendid prize !

I mun get it fur her ; ' —

I didn't stir,
It wurn't no manner o' use to me.
* Why, Joe,' a'most in a passion, cries he,
' Thou cannot know Ornitholo-gy ;
That tells ye the name o' each flower as blows,
From the daisy pied to the blushing rose ;
It puts each plant o' thy cottage border
Into its proper system and order ;
And by its help ye can easily settle
Which part is the stamen and which is the petal.
Aye, sad indeed must thy lack o' knowledge be !
'T would tak' half thy life to larn Ornithology ! '
Says I, * Fur larnin' I'm alius a-wishin',

When I've naught else to do ;

But I think that noo
'Twould be best fur me t' get on wi' my fishin' !

** Then he gangs a-slitherin' about them rocks ;
But t' flower all his tewin' and moilin' mocks,

BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 43

And afore I 'xactly sees what he's arter,

He pitches head-foremost into t' water !

But, as luck would hev' it, that smart umbrella

(A long sight too smart fur a schoolmaister fella)

Sticks fast i' t' rocks, so he holds on tight,

And he hollers fur me wi' all his might.

Thinks I, ' Thy larnin's a poor apology.'

' Schoolmaister,' says I,

' Didst ivver try
To larn t' science o' Swimology? '

Says he, * No ;

Mak' haste, Joe ;

If you don't be quick I shall hev' to let go.'
Says I, as I plunged i' th' stream like winkin',
And landed him drippin' upon the shore,
* If I hadn't lookt sharp 'twou'd ha' tuk thee

more
Nor the WHOLE o' thy life to larn that, I'm

thinkin' ! '

" Yet he wur a plucky chap, arter all, fur he cum back

t' next day.
And pulled that flower fur Miss Lucy, but I think she

said him nay ;
Leastwise, he seemed down-hearted like, when he

cum to say good-bye ;
But mebbe he couldn't mak' up his mind, and so wur

afeard to try.

44 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA.

He wanted to gi'e me a fi'-pun note, and that's how

it cum to pass
As he left me his smart umbrella, fur I wouldn't ha'

none on his brass.
So I've got it fur a keepsake, fur I really tuk it kind
On him to be so anxious fur t' improvin' o' my

mind ! "

I told Aunt Lucy the story, but she didn't see the

fun,
Though I left out all the levering, as, of course, Joe

should have done.
And though I didn't mention names — a fact I can

aver,
She cried because old Brimmacum had risked his life

for her !
Well, girls are the queerest creatures, that's all I've

got to say ;
And I think (but you mustn't let it out, or hint it in

any way,
'Tis a secret I've never told before, not e'en to my

nearest chum)
That very soon I shall have to speak — of — ** My

Uncle Brimmacum."
I think 'twill be rather jolly, you know, for he isn't

half a bad " fella,"
And my wedding present to him shall be another

fine umbrella !

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

When Christmas-time came round again, and flung

o'er hill and lake
A veil of snow, like frosting on a jolly rich plum-
cake ;
And Winter, like a pastrycook, the ice was deftly

spreading.
Aunt Lucy sent me a silver card to bid me to Brim-

macum's wedding.
There were two little hearts in the corner, instead of

a postage-stamp ;
And Hymen larking round with his torch, which

looked like a bicycle lamp ;
And ivy (that means Fidelity) with true-lovers' knots

in a bow :
"When I make up my mind to get married, I won't be

so spoony, I know.

Aunt Lucy wrote, "Dearest Freddie" {Freddie! I

was in a rage),
" I thought you might like to come, dear, and be my

sweet little page ! " —

46 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

Now I don't care much for pages, they're mostly

dressed-up girls,
With lace furbelows and collars and a lot of un-

cropped curls,
And they hang about with the horses, instead of

going to fight ;
So I thought, all things considered, I'd rather be a

knight.
Briggs major chaffed me awfully ; said he, " It's jolly

grand
To be Brimmacum's boy in buttons," which of course

I couldn't stand.

So we two concocted a pretty note, which said I'd

gladly come
And shed the light of my presence on Mrs, Brim-

macum ;
But if 'twas all the same to her, for reasons I'd not

explain,
I'd rather be H. M. Stanley, or Allan Quatermain ; —
Or, if she went for the classics, as far as I could tell.
Why, Ajax or Dick Turpin would suit me just as

well!

But my brilliant suggestions experienced a rebuff.
For she thought the last-named gentlemen a little

bit too rough.
And of juvenile explorers she'd really had enough ;

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 47

I didn't think Aunt Lucy remembered things so

long,—
To rake up a fellow's sins like that, is downright

mean and wrong.
She was hinting at that afternoon we started for the

Cape,
Got shipwrecked in the greenhouse, and cleared off

every grape.
Old Joe said, " Boys is varmint " — but I forgave him

then ;
I know he's not the sort of chap to bring things up

again.

So, after all, it was settled I'd better be myself.
And then (at the end of the term, you know, one's

apt to be short of pelf,
But the mater came down handsome, she thought it

very nice)
I bought a fine umbrella, and I stuffed it full of

rice ;
And I made old Brimmacum promise, whatever was

the weather,
He wouldn't put it up until his bride and he were

together !
It was the tallest kind of a joke, because, you see, it

appears
They'd agreed to pretend they'd been married for

any amount of years ;

48 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

And nobody had the least notion they were out orr

their honeymoon
(Folks must have been precious stupid, for I lay they

did nothing but spoon).
But, one day, when lots of swells were round, it came

on to rain, — in a trice
Up went that smart umbrella, and out fell a shower

of rice !
Oh ! didn't the people chaff them, and there was no

end of a spree !
And the credit of that transaction was entirely due tome.

But there, as the bookwriting fellows say, " we must

not anticipate."
I reached Leigh Hall " the day before," which I

thought was rather late ;
Still, I had my share in the scrimmage, for, after a

minute's doubt,
Grandmother said that Ethel and I might set the

presents out —
Ethel's the youngest bridesmaid ; we had a bit of a

wrangle,
She called old Brimmacum " a duck," because he

gave her a bangle ;
And she was uncommonly wild with me, though it

wasn't the slightest use.
When I said I didn't know much about ducks, but I

fancied she was a goose !

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 49

Well, we made it up in a little while,
Then settled to work in first-rate style ;

We wrote some neat little labels, and counted them
up when we'd done ;

And the glorious sum total — was three hundred and
sixty-one !

Presents aren't half a bad invention —

Just a few I should like to mention :

A patent contrivance for drawing a cork,

Three dozen spoons and a toasting-fork ;

Knives for carving and eating fishes,

And fifteen designs in butter-dishes ;

A silver " grid " for frying your steak.

And little twin baskets for wedding-cake ;

A set of sermons from Uncle Draper

(He'd better have sent the " Boy's Own

Paper ") ;
Bowls and plates, and such like crocks,
Garden-rollers, and chiming clocks ;
The stunningest sort of a writing-table,
Six pen-wipers from baby Mabel ;
Scuttles for coals, and silver lamps,
And the Wonderland Case for postage-stamps ;
Brooches and bracelets set with jewels,
And heaps and heaps of things in crewels,
Which Ethel tremendously admired,
Though the very sight of them made me tired.

4

50 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

Up to this, we'd behaved with the greatest pro-
priety,
But now I proposed that, by way of variety,
A little amusement might intervene,
So I popped the pug in the soup-tureen,
And suggested the wall-pocket lined with satin
Was exactly the place to hide the cat in !
I'd just accomplished my dearest wish
By putting a mouse in the muffin-dish.
When the ink- stand went and toppled over.
So I stopped the stream with a table-cover ;
But Ethel cried out, " Oh dear, oh dear !
That's the gift of the Lady Delamere ! "
'Twas plain I'd got into an awful mess.
So I thought I'd better go and confess ;
But, though perhaps 'twas a trifle mean,
I couldn't help feeling more serene
When Granny came peering round the screen.
She gazed awhile on that Stygian scene.
And then only said, very soft and low.
She thought, on the whole, I had better go
And pay a visit to keeper Joe
(Just to keep me out of a scrape, you know),
While she and Ethel set matters straight
That cleared my mind of a heavy weight
And I feel at liberty to state
That the damage wasn't so very great.

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 51

As I drew near to the cottage-door, Old Brimmacum

walked away ;
Cried Joe, " I'm fain to see thee, lad, and hopes thou

bee'st cum to stay !
Says I to th' missis, ' He's sewer to cum, or else thou

may ca' me dunce.'
Schule-maister's bin argufyin' wi' me as a man can't

luv but once ;
Says I, wi' my face pulled straight-like, tho' I

laughed a bit i' my sleeve,
* Maister, an true luv cums but onc't, there's a sight

o' mak'-believe ! '
But theer, what can ye 'spect of a chap o' th' eve on

his weddin'-day ?
When folk is bent on coortin', they're apt to be tuk

i' that way."

Here I broke in with, " Joe, I say.

You've led me astray,

You told me Aunt Lucy had said him * nay ! ' "

Joe answered me in his solemn way,
"jMaister Fred, an thou lives long eneugh, it's sartin

thou wilt find
A woman's none a woman, if she doesn't chaange

her mind !
That minds me on a story as chanced i' my young days ;
Cum, sit thee down and hear it; I'll mak' t' fire t' blaze.

52 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

" Sally and Sam, when I wur young, had coorted

mony a year,
And a' th' folk they wished 'em well as knovved 'em,

far and near.
An' they wur happy, I'll be boun', as any lark as

sings ;
For Sally wur a gradely lass, as knowed the mak' o'

things,
An' Sam nor all th' other lads wur taller by th* head ;
An' 'twas th' talk o' t' village as they wur boun' to

wed.
Now, on a summer's evenin', when t' farm-work wur

all done,
They walked togither, arm-in-arm, and Sam he thus
begun :

' Sally,' says he,
' Thee an' me
'S been a coortin' a goodish bit, hanna we?'
Sally blushed and smiled and looked away ;
She thought, in course he wur goin' to say,
' My lass, now I wants thee to name t' day.'
And so she wur summat taken aback.
When he went on quite anither tack.
' Hey, we've been a coortin' a longish bit — but 'tis

over'd now, I find ;
So I thought I'd cum an' tell thee as I ha' chaanged
my mind.'

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 53

"At fust she thought he wur makin' fun,
So she laughed and said, ' Now, Sam, ha' done.
Thou needn't be tryin' it on wi' me,
Thou knaws I'd nivver think ill o' thee.
Thou's nivver had no 'casion for sayin' aught o' t'
kind.'

* Eneugh for thee to knaw,' says Sam, ' as I ha'

chaanged my mind.'

"Then Sally she wur downright mad — and sma'

blame too, says I —
She'd a spice o' temper, as lasses have as is smart

and neat and spry ;
' Thou ill-contrive't waistril, I wunder thou's th' face —
Thou knaws t' folk '11 cry thee shame thro'-out th'

hull o' t' place.
To talk sich stuff as that to her thou's walked out

wi' so long ;
Thou'dst better chaange thy mind agen, for sewer

thou's chaanged it wrong.'

" Hey, she gev' him a tung-lashin', a regilar set-down.
But Sam wur nivver daunted by any woman's frown ;
He let her talk till she wur tired, and then, * My lass,'
says he,

* I've tauld thee as I've chaanged my mind, and that's

eneugh for thee.'

54 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

** Now, Sally she begun to see as tantrums wouldn't do ;
So next she tried clandoodlin' — and well she did it,

too.
(I fun' it out at siwenteen, and I'll say 't at nigh

three-score.
When a woman tak's to clandoodlin', a man may as

well gi'e o'er.)

* Nay, Sam, thou nivver means it,' says she, and

drops a tear ;

* We two ha' luvved each other for well-nigh sivven

year,
An' we broke t' lucky sixpence, and vowed we'd

nivver part ;
I nivver thought as thou wouldst go and try to

break my heart !
An' if thou goes and leaves me now I'll lay me down

and dee.'
I'm soft as a boiled turnip if a lass but wets her e'e,
But Sam he didn't care a smite, he wurn't that mak'

o' stuff—

* I've chaanged my mind, I tell thee,' says he, ' and

that's eneugh.'

" Now when clandoodlin' failed her, she knaw'd what

to be at.
She went and tuk to strathegy — and woman's good

at that.

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 55

I'm stronger nor th' missis, and wiser too, no

doubt ;
But when she taks to strathegy, she beats me out

and out.

" Sally dreed her e'en, and smoothed her hair ;
And med' believe as she didn't care.
'Well, Sam,' says she,
' It's nowt to me,
I'm thinkin' there's plenty o' fish i' th' sea ;
But what dosta think folk '11 say o' thee .-'
Now tho' thou'rt as bad a lot as can be,
And hast seemin'ly lost all thy luv for me,
I can't forget as I onc't luvved thee ;
So I've a plan, an' if thou'U agree,
Th' blame on t' partin' shall fall on me —
Tvvould nivver do for a likely lad to leave a lass i'

the lurch.
Thou mun go and see t' parson, and hav' us asked i'

church ;
An' thou mun nivver cheep a word o' all as thou hast

said,
An' things '11 go on just as tho' we still were boun' to
wed.

" * An' then t' parson he'll begin to tie us up for

life,

56 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

" Sam, wilta ha' this woman to be thy wedded

wife,
To luv* an' keep an' cherish her thro' good report and

ill ? "
And thou mun then, as bauld as brass, mak' answer

"Ay, I will."
And then 'twill be my turn, thou knaws, an' he'll cum

to me and say,
"Sally, wilta ha' this man, to honour and obey? "
And I shall toss my head as tho' I luvved thee ne'er

a jot,
And say out loud afore folk, " Nay, maister, I will

not."

So then wi' me
The fault will be.
And none o' t' blame will lig o' thee.'

" Now Sam he thought 'twur just as well as she

should ha' th' blame,
So long as he could get his way, and leave her all th'

same.
So he went and put th' axins up, and when th' day

cum round,
A luvvinger couple, you'd ha' said, there couldn't well

be found.
And Sally wur that snod and smart, in ribbins and in

lace.

BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 57

Wi' a smile as looked like mischief upon her bonny

face ;
And her posy wur forget-me-nots, as might ha' been

a hint —
But bless you, Sam he'd no more 7ious nor if he'd

bin a flint.

'' But he'd getten t' lesson off by heart, an' when t'

parson said,
' Sam, wilta ha' this woman as thou's cum here to

wed?'
He wurn't nivver a bit flustered, tho' he'd behaved so

ill,
But spoke out bauldly like a man, ' Ay, maister,

that I will.'
And then a light o' triumph shone in Sally's e'en so

blue.
And when t' parson speared at her, she answered,

• I will,' too.
* Hey, Sally, lass ! ' cried Sam, aghast, * thou'st bin

and clean forgot,
Thou knaws thou tauld me thou would say, ' Why,

no, that I will not'
' Hey, Sam, my lad, I knaw I did — but now, I think

thou'lt find
It's quite eneugh for thee to knaw as / ha'

CHAANGED MY MIND.' "

58 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING.

But Brimmacum didn't change his mind, and Aunt

Lucy said, " I will";
And Joe declared, " In twenty year happen she'll say

it still ! "
And wasn't the cake just scrumptious ! Trust me»

for you know I've tried,
And I shouldn't much mind a wedding myself, if

they'd only leave out the bride !

PICKLED COCKLES

A QUAKER STORY.

In the old-fashioned " Friendly " days,

When Quaker garb and Quaker ways
Had not died out — when Quaker phrase
Was heard in every Friendly greeting,
And not merely reserved for " Preparative Meeting : "

When old and young

Used the Quaker tongue,

Said " thee " and " thou,"

Declined to bow,

And thought a song

Most improper and wrong ;
In the days which we love — to hear about
(They were less amusing to live in, no doubt),
There dwelt just outside a suburban town
A dear old Friend named Tabitha Brown.

Now Tabitha Brown was clad always

In the softest of drabs and most dove-like greys ;

6o PICKLED COCKLES.

With the whitest of caps on her silver hair,

And apron and mittens and all " to compare ; "

While out of doors she was just the same, —

Most spotless, quiet, and free from blame ;

Her shawl was neatly folded in,

And kept in its place by a white-headed pin ;

The sweet placid face, 'neath the silver hair

(Showing lines of sorrow, but none of care),

Looked out from a bonnet quaint and shady, —

She was what one might call a real " Quaker Lady."

Thy excuse, gentle spirit — I apprehend

Thou wert what's better still, a true " Woman Friend."

Tabitha Brown was well skilled in the arts

Of making pies, and puddings, and tarts ;

Of pickling, preserving, and baking, and brewing.

Of boiling and roasting, and frying and stewing,

Cheese-pressing and churning —

In all sorts of learning
Connected with thrifty household ways,
Tabitha Brown was above all praise.
In fact, there was nothing she couldn't make,
From a whole-meal loaf to a wedding cake !

While for dusting and rubbing,
And scouring and scrubbing.
And subjecting all things to the process called
" tubbing,"

PICKLED COCKLES. 6l

For swilling and mopping, for sweeping with brooms,
For turning the furniture out of the rooms,
For shaking of beds and for beating of chairs,
For taking up carpets and cleaning the stairs ;
For polishing pots, pans, dishes, and kettles.
And everything else that is made of bright metals ;
For leaving black beetles and spiders no peace.
For using that article termed " elbow-grease,"
Together with soap, sand, bath-brick, and black-lead,
Emery paper (or what was then used instead).
For keeping the house without spot, speck, or stain,
There never was servant like Phoebe Jane !
In short, and most boys will, I think, grasp my

meaning,
She kept up all the year one perpetual " spring-
cleaning."

Phoebe Jane was tidy and trim.

But no Quaker dress could make her look prim ;

And, notwithstanding her " Friendly " gown.

She failed to resemble Tabitha Brown.

Her bonnet and shawl were just as plain,

Yet they looked somehow different on Phoebe Jane ;

While rebellious curls would sometimes stray

From her cap in a m.ost unorthodox way,

And, though she persistently brushed them o'er,

They only curled tighter than before.

62 PICKLED COCKLES.

Her temper, too, was none of the best ;
And if any one, either mistress or guest.
Her peculiar notions chanced to offend, she

Her feeh'ngs expressed

(It must be confessed)
In Quakerly speech which was not always "friendly" ;
And Tabitha Brown wrote these words in her diary :
" P. J.'s heart — it is good, but her temper — is fiery."

This quiet household contained a third, —
A jackdaw, a really remarkable bird !
From the day he left his parental nest
In Quaker language he'd been addressed ;
And he talked in quite as " Friendly" a strain
As Tabitha Brown or Phoebe Jane.

No schoolboy's freak

Had e'er taught him to speak
Of "awfully jolly " or "stunning," or " fine,"

Or to whistle sad airs

About "oysters" and "stairs,"
And "Ehren/' or " Bingen," or "Bonn" "on the
Rhine. ='

Sedate and grave.

He knew how to behave ;
On points of decorum his feelings were sensitive ;

Friends scarce had erred

Had they sent this bird

PICKLED COCKLES. 63

To the " Quarterly Meeting " as " Representative."
Tho' no doubt he would not have failed to declare
That he certainly " did not expect to be there."

But not even beneficent Quaker law
Can eradicate mischief from a jackdaw,

And a failing bad

He once had had,
Which is common to all of his species and genus
(Pray let it be kept a secret between us) —
He had not a conscience sufficiently fine
To discriminate clearly 'twixt " mine " and " thine."

On thimbles and keys.

Button-hooks and green peas,

Spoons ("tables" or "teas")

He would suddenly seize

Without saying " please,"
And convey them to places not reached with great
ease —

To the tops of tall trees,

Rocked by Spring's "gentle breeze."
Or to crannies thro' which your hand could not squeeze.

Once, when many degrees

Of cold made it freeze,
And Tabitha Brown 'gan to cough and to sneeze,
She sent for her doctor, the best of m.d.'s.
And this model jackdaw ran away with the fees.

64 PICKLED COCKLES.

But 'twas long ago

Since he'd acted so ;
And Tabitha gently said, " Thee know,
We ought to have charity, Phoebe Jane ;
I do not think 'twill occur again."

Now of all the receipts which Friend Brown possessed,
She prized one more highly than the rest,
Which, from mother to daughter handed down.
Had for years belonged to the race of Brown ;
'Twas for pickled cockles, and Friends would

declare.
When they tasted the " Monthly Meeting " fare,
That this dish indeed was beyond compare.
So, though Tabitha looked with benignant eyes
On the rapid consumption of puddings and pies,
And showed, indeed, very small reserve
In the matter of marmalade and preserve.
She was somewhat "exercised in her mind,"
On entering the storeroom one morning, to find
That the jar she had thought was filled to the brim
With dainty molluscs in orderly trim,
Was in truth half empty ; and in some pain
She mentioned the fact to Phoebe Jane :
"They'll not last until cockles come round again."
But Phoebe Jane was very cross,
And, as she gave her head a toss,

PICKLED COCKLES. ^

Replied, " I thought thee couldn't know
That the stock was getting low

Of pickled cockles."

Tabitha quietly withdrew,

Yet still, alas ! 'tis very true

That neither mistress nor maid could guess

How day by day the store grew less,

Of pickled cockles.

And Phoebe Jane took it into her head
That her mistress didn't believe what she said,
And remarked, as she took the breakfast up,
" I know thee think that I dine and sup

On pickled cockles."

And, though Tabitha calmly assured her that she
Had not the least doubt of her honesty,
Phcebe still declared that she couldn't remain
If her character wasn't freed from the stain

Of those pickled cockles.

One afternoon it chanced that she
Was filling the little brass kettle for tea ;
When, turning round, with surprise she saw,
On the ground beside her, the grave jackdaw

Eating pickled cockles.
5

66 PICKLED COCKLES.

The kettle falls, the waters pour

Over jackdaw, grate, and kitchen floor ;

And Phoebe cries, with excited feeling,

" Ah ! Friend, I see that thee've been stealing

The pickled cockles ! "

The poor jackdaw became very bald
From the dire effects of that terrible scald ;
He looked a most deplorable fright,
And he never after could bear the sight

Of pickled cockles.

For a year and a day this poor little bird

Never opened his mouth to speak a word ;

At the end of that time an event occurred

Which caused his voice once more to be heard.

Tabitha Brown had a brother-in-law.

As strict a Quaker as ever you saw ;

His coat was long, and his collar was straight ;

You knew him at once as a " Friend of weight."

He wore a broad-brimmed beaver hat.

And rejoiced in the name of " Nathaniel Pratt."

Now this " weighty Friend "
Came up to attend
The famed " Yearly Meeting " of which you have
heard,

PICKLED COCKLES. 67

Which begins, so Friends say,

" On the first Fourth day
Which follows the First day, in order the third,

Of the Fifth month."— Pray,

Might I venture to say
That this is rather a roundabout way
Of describing the third or fourth Wednesday in
May?

*Twas First day morning, and eight or nine

Most " well-concerned Friends " had met to dine

At Tabitha Brown's. Nathaniel Pratt,

Who on the right hand of the hostess sat,

Still wore, sedately, his broad-brimmed hat;

But having thus borne his testimony

In a manner in which he stood quite alone, he

Began to think that he now was free

To consider himself at liberty

To consult his comfort in some degree ;

So he took off his hat, and exposed to view

A massive head, which, I assure you.

Might have served as a model for Giunta, of Pisa,

Who loved to paint

A benevolent saint
As bald — as bald as Julius Ca;sar,
With a halo instead of the laurel rare
Which the Senate permitted the latter to wear

68 PICKLED COCKLES.

To conceal the scarcity of his hair !
(For further particulars see Lempriere.)
The jackdaw, whom nobody thought of heeding,
Took a lively interest in the proceeding ;
And though he had never studied geology,
And had no acquaintance with natural laws,
It was plain to this cleverest of jackdaws,
That effect, as a rule, must proceed from cause.
Then, not stopping to make the slightest apology,
. With a knowing air

He perched on the chair
Of the " weighty Friend " who had lost his hair,

And exclaimed in his ear

In tones loud and clear,
But yet with a touch of pity sincere
(Inspired, no doubt, by a fellow feeling),
** Ah^ Friend ! I see that THEE've been stealing

The pickled cockles. ^^

Moral.

Don't steal Pickled Cockles — fresh ones are not dear
And if in your mind you are not quite clear
Concerning the pickling, look out the receipt on
Page three-ninety-one of the late Mrs, Beeton.
Thirdly, and lastly — I speak with due cause —
I should certainly strongly advise you to pause
Before you put faith in the best of Jackdaws !

THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY.

Do you wonder at my title ?
Wonder at the strange conjunction
Of such widely different beings
(Different as drab from scarlet)
As a Quaker and a Fairy ?
Listen, then, and I will tell you.
Tell you all the wondrous story
Of an excellent young Quaker,
Much respected in his Meeting
By the name of Joseph Woodfall.

Drab his coat, and drab his gaiters,
And of buttons they were guiltless ;
And his hat was made of beaver.
And its brim was of the broadest.
Plain his dress and plain his speech was,
Few his words, but very weighty.
And he never read a novel,
Never read a work of fiction ;
But he studied Fox's journal,

70 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY.

And the works of Penn and Barclay ;

That was where he found amusement ;

Not in theatres or dancing,

Not in hunting or in rowing ;

Bicycles were not invented,

If they had been he would not have.

Wasted time in vain diversion ;

And he always went to Meeting,

Twice on First day, once on Fourth day,

Never thought a walk more pleasant.

Never said he had a headache,

Or his cold was very serious !

Clerk he was to Monthly Meeting,

Door-keeper at the Yearly ;

All the meetings he attended !

Now this excellent young Quaker
Fell in love with fair Priscilla —
Fairest maid in all the Meeting !
And he thought, if way would open
He would marry fair Priscilla.

^any virtues had Priscilla,
She was modest, neat, and tidy,
Soft her voice, and sweet her temper ;
And in all her household duties
None could equal fair Priscilla.

THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 71

So he spoke unto the maiden,
Spoke with serious words and weighty.
Said he saw his duty clearly ;
Hoped that well she would consider
And the same conclusion come to.
Thus he wooed her, thus he won her ;
For our Quaker youths and maidens
Have hearts very much like others !
And the serious words of Joseph
Spoke a love as true and tender
As the sonnets of a poet !
And Priscilla's modest answer,
" Yea, I think I love thee, Joseph,"
Meant as much as love-lorn maiden
Ever sang to knight of story !

But, alas, no one is perfect !
Faults belong to human nature ;
And Friend Joseph soon discovered
What he thought a serious failing
In the maid he loved so dearly.
Too light-hearted was the maiden —
Light her heart, and light her footstep.
And her merry, ringing laughter
Vexed the quiet soul of Joseph ;
For he thought it was not seemly
To be very glad and joyous

72 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY.

In this world of sin and sorrow.

And she loved poetic stories,

Loved the " Faerie Queene" of Spenser,

And the bright and fair creations

Of sweet Shakespeare's wondrous pencil.

Found glad beauties in the sunshine,

In the flowers and sparkling dewdrops,

Which, to honest Joseph's notions,

Were but vain and idle fancies.

And she half believed in Fairies ;

Told him many a tale of wonder,

And the while he listened to her —

Listened, puzzled, yet enchanted —

Thoughts quite sober rose within him :

Would the habit of truth-telling

Not be injured by these stories ?

Could her " yea " and " nay " be sacred

If she meddled with these fictions ?

Would her wild imagination

Lead astray the sweet Priscilla ?

But, one evening, while he pondered,
Much perplexed and puzzled sorely.
While he wondered if his duty
Bade him leave his fair Priscilla
(After words of kindly counsel).
Bade him lead a life most lonely,

THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 73

Or seek out another woman
Not so fanciful or comely ;
While he pondered, puzzled sorely,
Suddenly, adown a moonbeam.
Gleaming through the open casement.
Came a little tiny creature,
Fairer than the loveliest mortal !
Blue her eyes as heaven's azure,
Golden hair fell o'er her shoulders ;
Dainty robes, of brightest colours.
Draped her little dancing figure.
She was just the sweetest Fairy
Human eyes have ever gazed on !
So this little graceful being,
Fluttering wings of gauzy silver,
'Lighted, gently as a roseleaf.
On the outspread hand of Joseph.
And, in tones of bell-like sweetness.
Said : " O unbelieving mortal,
I have come to teach thee wisdom.
Dost thou fear that Fairy legends
Will affect the truth of woman ?
Fairy tales are always truthful ;
Deep within them lies a meaning.
Meaning mystic, pure, and holy.
Only innocence can read it.
Only childhood in its freshness,

74 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY.

Only guileless men and women.
Thou art guileless, O Friend Joseph!
But, I fear, thou'rt rather stupid !
Yet, because thy heart is honest,
And because thy tongue is truthful
(Virtue most beloved of Fairies),
I have come to teach thee wisdom.
Come with me, and I will show thee
Something of this mystic meaning,
Something of the works of fancy ! "

Honest Joseph, looking downwards
At the little graceful being,
At the sweetest of the Fairies,
Said : " I think 'tis not consistent
For a man Friend, staid and serious,
To be seen with one so flighty !
Is it seemly for a woman
To be seen with hair unloosened ?
With a gown of gaudy colours,
And with jewels vain and sparkling ?
Cover up thy wandering tresses
With a modest cap of muslin ;
Change thy robe of flaring colours
For a gown more neat and simple ;
Then, perchance, when thou returnest,
I will listen to thy teaching.

THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 75

Try to find the mystic meaning —
Though, I fear me, weighty wisdom
Dwelleth not with one so flighty."

Then the Fairy's merry laughter

Followed Joseph's admonition,

And, without a word, she vanished.

In her place there stood a figure,

Clothed in garb of Quaker fashion ;

And the face was grave and serious,

And the bright blue eyes were downcast,

And the golden hair was gathered

Underneath a cap of muslin !

Slyly smiled she at his wonder,

But in modest tone she queried,

" Will I suit thee now. Friend Joseph ? "

Joseph answered, gravely, slowly,

" Verily, thou art more seemly ;

I will follow where thou leadest."

Out into the moonlight dancing
Went the little Quaker Fairy !
Honest Joseph followed after,
Pondering deeply, puzzled sorelj'-.
Then she showed him sights of wonder ;
Nothing new she showed unto him.
But her wand gave brighter colours

76 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY,

To the glorious works of Nature,
And he saw a fairer beauty
In the sparkling of the dewdrops,
In the gleaming of the moonbeams,
In the bright and varied colours
Of the flowerets in the meadow.
Then he heard a sweeter music
In the splashing of the fountain,
In the ripple of the streamlet,
In the song of lark and linnet.
And the sound of human laughter,
And the songs of human gladness,
Seemed no longer sad and sinful.
Then she showed him human sorrow.
Comforted by sweetest fancy ;
Memories of happy childhood,
Hopes of brighter days in future,
Raising men from weary sadness
To a cheerful, bright contentment ;
Gilding many a dreary garret,
Soothing many a lonely pillow,
Bright'ning life in every dwelling.

Then she turned and spoke unto him :
" Fear not for thy wife Priscilla,
Wife she will be, for I know it.
Sorrow is the lot of all men.

THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 77

Do not seek it ere it cometh.

Do not check her gladsome spirit,

Happiness is right, not sinful.

Let her listen to the poets,

Let her tell thee tales of wonder.

She will lead thy sober reason

To the brighter realms of fancy ;

And her wild imagination

Will be sobered by thy judgment.

Ye are suited to each other ! "

Then the Fairy vanished slowly !
And the excellent young Quaker
Woke from out his wondrous slumber.
From that day a change came o'er him ;
Still his hat was made of beaver,
Still its brim was of the broadest.
Still his speech was plain and friendly,
Still he studied Fox and Barclay,
Still he was a good young Quaker ;
But he listened to Priscilla,
Listened to her pretty fancies.
Did not check her joyous spirits ;
Nay, he sometimes smiled to see them.
So he married fair Priscilla,
And, in words of good old story,
" They lived happy ever after."

A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S
BONNET.

" Unless Virtue guide us, our Choice must be wrong"

Penn's "Maxims," 256,

One First day morn, I ween,
At ** Meeting " might be seen,

At the end
Of a sober boyish row,
On a form made short and low,

A small " Friend,"

Feeling very new and strange,
Looking round him for a change

To employ
His thoughts, which wandered free,
For he was, as all might see,

A new boy.

But a short space did divide
The men's from the women's side.
And near him.

A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 79

Also at the short form's end,
Sat a little " Woman Friend "
Neat and prim.

Her gentle, serious face

Seemed to suit the time and place ;

Yet he tried
To compose his thoughts in vain,
They wandered off again

To her side I

On the form, before each young
Woman Friend, a bonnet hung.

Do not smile !
Covered each in dove-like hue ;
Fashioned plainly in the true

Quaker style.

These bonnets, he did find,
With copy-books were lined,

And he then
On each neatly-written page
Read the maxims grave and sage,

Of Friend Penn.

And the bonnet, which he deemed
To the little maiden seemed
To belong,

8o A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET.

Spoke thus, with silent voice :
" Unless Virtue guide, our Choice
Must be wrong."

'Twas ** Second Meeting" day,
And the girls had gone away

In grave state ;
And the boy then turned to heed
The words the Clerk did read,

With due weight.

'Twas Query number three.
Which the Clerk read solemnly

Up above.
" Do Friends," the boy preferred
To translate what he heard,

"Fall in love?"*

And in his childish mind
He an answer seemed to find

Full and true ;
" To the best of our belief,"
Ran the wording, quaint and brief,

" Yes, they do."

* III. Query. " Are Friends preserved in love one towards
another ; if differences arise, is due care taken speedily to end them ;
and are Friends careful to avoidj and discourage tale bearing and
detraction?" — Rules of Discipline.

A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 8i

Boy and girl grew youth and maid,
Trained beneath the firm and staid

Quaker rule ;
Their paths ran side by side
For a time, then severed wide, —

They left school.

The young man went astray
From the good old-fashioned way

Of his youth ;
His collar was turned down,
His hat, from brim to crown,

Changed, in sooth !

His bow had quite a grace,
And " Sunday " took the place

Of "First day";
He called " Seventh month," " July,"
And " business Meetings," " dry,"

Sad to say !

Light literature he read ;

He learned to dance ('tis said).

When he penned

His letters ('twas a blot)

He wrote, " Dear Sir," and not

" Esteemed Friend."

6

82 A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET.

Yet still the maiden's face,
And her simple Quaker grace,

In his heart,
With the words of love and truth
Which he learned in early youth,

Had a part :

And oft, when doubts assailed
And temptation half prevailed,

" Yet be strong,"
Cried memory's warning voice,
*' Unless Virtue guide, our Choice

Must be wrong."

Though his behaviour shocks
Friends of views orthodox,

And minds deeper ;
At "Yearly-Meeting" he
By appointment came to be

A doorkeeper.

" Would the present be the time
To receive Rebecca Pryme,

We would learn.
And another Woman Friend
Under, as we apprehend,

A concern ? "

A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 83

The young Woman Friend who bore
This message to the door,

Where he stood,
Wore a bonnet, plain and prim,
And the sight seemed unto him

Very good !

For beneath the " friendly" shade

Was the sweet face of the maid '

(Thus it proved)
Whom, that First day long ago,
When they sat in silent row

He had loved !

On no very distant day.

When there seemed an '* open way,"

And he came
To her, and spoke his mind.
She too, he joyed to find.

Felt the same.

Guided by Virtue's voice,

Bless'd was this young man's choice ;

And the twain
In the Meeting-house once more
Where they sat in days of yore

Met again.

84 A ROMANCE OF A FRIENDS BONNET.

The Friends assembled there
In the quiet waiting share

With the bride,
And the husband, soon to be.
Who are sitting silently,

Side by side.

Then he takes her by the hand,
• And the two together stand,

Ent'ring life ; —
" Until our lives shall end.
Dear Friends, I take this Friend
For my wife ;

" With assistance from Above
I promise faith and love "

(Thus he saith)
" As befits the married state,
Till the Lord shall separate

Us by death.'

THE KING'S PUDDING.

'TwAS drawing near to happy Christmastide ;

A sound of chopping, mingled with the hum

Of merry voices, reached my ears. The scent

Of plums and spices filled the frosty air

With a rich, balmy fragrance ; and my thoughts

Reverted to that pudding made of old

In Arthur's time. 'Tis thus the legend runs : —

Three pecks of barley meal the King obtained,

Some say he stole. 'Tis well for them the sword

Excalibur, that mystic, wondrous brand,

Is safe within the keeping of a maid,

The Lady of the Lake. — May shame alight

On those who dare, with false and slanderous

tongues,
T'assail the honour of the blameless king ! —
This meal King Arthur took, and with the aid
Of all his knights and Guinevere his queen
He made the pudding so renowned in song !

86 THE KING'S PUDDING.

He rolled it out, then with a liberal hand
He placed therein a goodly store of plums
And that it might be rich, but not too rich,
Two lumps of fat (of suet or of lard.
We learn not which, enough to say 'twas fat)
He added, not by weight, and not by guess,
Such clumsy methods must perforce suffice
In these degenerate days. In Arthur's time
Love brightened all the common things of life.
And poetry was linked with every act,
However humble, and so Arthur used
A standard worthy of a knightly king.
Each lump was fashioned of the size and shape
Of the white dainty thumb of Guinevere !
Thus closed his task. Then Galahad arose
And brought the bag, of samite pure and white
As his own fame ; and Tristram tied the string
And placed the pudding in a mighty pot,
Which hissed and bubbled with triumphant glee
As though it knew the honour which it gained
In being chosen from the common herd
To boil a pudding fashioned by a king !
For hours the pudding boiled. Then Lancelot
Essayed to take it up — for in all feats
Requiring steady eye and skilful hand
Sir Lancelot of the Lake was ever first.
Around him gathered soon a brilliant throng.

THE KING'S PUDDING. 87

Watching with bated breath the dexterous knight,

Who lodged the pudding safely on a dish,

And placed it deftly on the table round.

Then all the Court did eat, and praised the King,

Whose knowledge of the peaceful household arts

Was equal to his prowess in the field ; —

And what they could not eat, the careful Queen,

In loving competition with her lord,

Fried for their breakfast on the morrow morn.

Then Enid took her harp and sang the strain

Familiar to our ears from childhood's days :

" When good King A rthur ruled this land.

He was a goodly king !
He took tJiree pecks of barley meal,
To make a bag pudding !

" A bag pudding tJie King did make.

And stuffed it full of plums ;
And in it put two lumps of fat.

As big as my two thumbs I

" The King and Queen did eat thereof,

Aftd noblemen beside ;
A nd what they could not eat that day

Tlie Queen next morning fried ! "

She ended, and in deep prophetic voice
Grave Merlin spake : " Let future ages learn

; THE KING'S PUDDING.

A lesson from this pudding made in sport. —

Oh, English men and women of all time,

Deal out your Christmas cheer with bounteous

hand,
But let not sinful waste decrease your store !
Whate'er your rank or age do not disdain
To stir the pudding for the Christmas board ;
So shall you follow the example set
By good King Arthur and his beauteous queen."

DOROTHY.

(A TALE OF H ADDON HALL.)

Gaily the lights are shining

In stately Haddon Hall, —
For a bridal night must needs be bright,

And merrily goes the ball ;
'Tis whispered another such wedding

Will not be far to seek,
For a lovely pair are the daughters fair

Of Vernon,—" King o' the Peak."

Oh, cool is the little chamber

Adjoining the great ball-room, —
And no one wonders that Dolly

Should rest in the partial gloom ;
And no one recks of the mighty love

That holdeth her heart in thrall.
Of the tears that rise as she sadly cries,

" Farewell to Haddon Hall ! "

90 DOROTHY.

She gently closes the portal

That leads from Haddon Hall,
And the stone stair faintly echoes

The sound of her light foot-fall ;
She passes the lighted windows,

And steals in the night away. —
'Tis the story of old — love versus gold, —

And love has won the day.

There lingers a young wood-cutter

In the glades near Haddon Hall :
Yet never a king of the forest

'Neath his axe need fear to fall :
He waiteth now in the darkness,

One hand holds his noble steed.
While the other is laid on his trusty blade : —

A knightly churl indeed !

A rustle of silken garments,

A glitter of jewels rare,
A gleam of gold 'neath the cloak's dark fold,

And Dolly is standing there ; —
One moment of hurried greeting,

He lifts her over the wall, —
And away they ride, that youth and his bride,-

The heiress of Haddon Hall.

DOROTHY. ~ 91

A knight and gentle lady

Hold sway in Haddon Hall,
And children fair bless the happy pair

And love is lord of all. —
And a ducal race shall proudly trace

Its lofty pedigree,
Back thro' ages gone, to the brave Sir John

And the Lady Dorothy.

The ivy twines round the turrets

Of stately Haddon Hall,
But Dolly's face, with its girlish grace,

Still smiles from the old oak wall ;
And youths and maidens whisper low

Of love that can do and dare,
As they rest awhile near the ancient pile

On Dorothy Vernon's stair. —

They say you are wronged, sweet Dolly,

By this tale of Haddon Hall,
That the course of true love ran smoothly,

And you never eloped at all ;
For you were a model daughter.

As dutiful as fair ;
So you ne'er took flight, on that festal night,

Adown that old stone stair.

92 DOROTHY.

For Sir John took the orthodox method

Of winning the prize which he gained ;
And the needful consent of parents

Was duly asked, and obtained ;
So he never stood in the darkness,

While the lights gleamed bright at the ball.
Nor risked his life, to claim as his wife

The heiress of Haddon Hall. —

It does not sound so romantic,

But may be 'twas all for the best ; —
Yet the ** peacock in pride " shows side by side

With the boar of the Vernon crest ;
And the old stone stair still standeth,

And the picture hangs on the wall,
To prove without fail the truth of my tale

Of the heiress of Haddon Hall !

"W. SjicajgJii * Sctis, Pri»i<ers, tttUv Lane, Lor.dcv, E.C.

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